


the dirt beneath their feet

by nex_et_nox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, crack!fic, crowley shouldn't be let near the internet, it can only lead to bad things, post-Season Seven, pre-season eight, sort of meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:23:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nex_et_nox/pseuds/nex_et_nox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Sam is drunk, Crowley ships Destiel, and Purgatory is one big very convenient closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the dirt beneath their feet

**Author's Note:**

> This was based off a tumblr post by substiel, which I enjoyed immensely and then wrote a fic about. So. (And this was also before season gr8 premiered.)

The first thing Sam does after Crowley vanishes and he has left SucroCorp is head straight towards a bar, if only to bury the overwhelming wave of _they’re gone they’re gone they’re gone it’s both of them now like Bobby and Ellen and Jo and Dad and Jess_ —

That, unfortunately, is when Crowley shows up again. Right as he’s on the verge of being completely smashed. 

He lunges at the demon with a knife. Of course, the British/Scottish/whatever not-man defends himself, and it goes downhill from there. 

Subsequently, they are kicked out of the bar. 

“I. Hate. You.” Sam enunciates as clearly as he can, hoping his words aren’t slurring as much as he thinks they are. From the look on Crowley’s face, obviously he has failed. 

“Yes, yes,” Crowley says airily, waving one hand. He glances around, and carefully shifts his weight back and forth.

They stand for a while in silence.

“What are you doing here?” Sam finally asks, tired and drunk and just…just really not in the mood to deal with the King of Hell.

Crowley fidgets again.

Sam turns to leave.

“Wait!” Crowley calls out. “Hold on, I’ve got a bet riding on this, they don’t believe me about those two morons—!”

“What?” Sam asks dully.

“Oh, you aren’t that stupid,” the King of Hell groans. “You’ve seen the way they look at each other. Don’t tell me you never thought that there was something more – or could be something more, at any rate – to those idiots.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam denies slowly.

“Your _brother_ ,” Crowley says, rolling his eyes. Disdain tumbles from his tongue as he expands upon his nonsensical ramblings. “And his _angel_.”

Rage pushes up past the haze alcohol had pulled over his senses. “Yeah, well they’re _dead_ , no thanks to _you_ ,” he snarls, hand clenching around the handle of the knife he was still holding. 

“They’re not dead,” Crowley responds. 

“Then where the hell did they _go_?” Sam shouts at the demon.

“Purgatory,” Crowley says matter-of-factly. 

“Purg—? _What_?” Sam splutters. “ _Purgatory_?”

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t actually know that killing Dick was going to suck them in,” Crowley replies, smirking slightly. “But since they’re there, maybe it can act as a closet and get them to finally do something.”

“…what.” It isn’t even a question, it’s simply a flat statement.

“You’ve _seen_ the way they _look_ at each other!” Crowley cries out, exasperated. “And I made a bet that maybe, just _maybe_ , I could possibly finally get-them-together-because-no-one-else-believes-me-when-I-say-they’re-making-mooneyes.” The last part was said very quickly and under the demon’s breath.

“…you think Dean and Cas are or could be a couple, so you figured the best way to do this was to trap them in Purgatory so that they can work out their _feelings_ for each other, and this is also partially because of a bet,” Sam sums up.

“ _Unintentionally_ trap them in Purgatory,” Crowley corrects. “I actually didn’t intend for that to happen. Helpful, though.”

Sam can’t even think of anything to say.

“Look,” Crowley says. “You should probably figure out some way to get your brother and his…not-boyfriend out of there, right?”

“I’m not opening Purgatory,” Sam refuses immediately, mostly because of the fact that it’s _Crowley_ that wants him to do so. And then also because he doesn’t know how. (Though that hadn’t stopped him when he’d been trying to get Dean back from Hell; he’d tried anything and everything then, and he knew that if he started trying to get Dean and Cas out, what had happened then would possibly – probably – happen again.)

Crowley throws up his hands in annoyance. “It’s hard to validate anything if the persons in question are locked away in another dimension!”

“I’m not helping you,” Sam replies evenly. 

“You’d be helping your brother,” Crowley cajoles.

“No,” Sam says firmly, and this time when he turns to walk away, Crowley lets him.

“You know, there are books about you two!” Crowley calls after him. “You should see what some of the shippers put up on tumbl – on the internet. Check out Destiel!”

Sam pauses for a moment, and _really_ hopes that he’s too hungover in the morning to remember any of this, and carries on his way.


End file.
